I don't think you want to be invited to my place for dinner. But I don't think I want to be to yours, either.
I think it's ridiculous for someone who chooses to represent food the way I do to have any food prejudices, but I do, and they're quite specific.
Here's how they shape up:
Foods I Haven't Tried, and Won't, But Do not Ask Me Why (I'll Tell You):
Artichokes. Reason: they look slimy and don't smell good.
Avocados. Reason: they look bland, seem to have no useful purpose and are too much effort to prepare, so I'm not going to go there.
Offal. Reason: No way I'm going to touch ANYONE's kidney, liver, entrails or brains. JUST WILL NEVER HAPPEN. They processed stuff so YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO.
Stuff I've tried a couple of times but won't make a habit of:
Asparagus. Reason: Nothing really distinguishes it from any other crispy vegetable but it looks like a skinny alien and I generally don't like thinking about "peeling off the outer husk".
Oysters. Reason: I guess I tried one a couple of times and they were inoffensive, but who needs inoffensive?
Any type of squash. Reason: Can I vomit now or later?
Mussels. Reason: Anything that you have to check whether they're living or discard was not meant for human consumption.
Cooked fish. Reason: It stinks everything it touches up, including the refrigerator, and is kind of the cosmic equivalent of Moose. You CAN eat it, but why on Earth would you want to?
Chickpeas. Reason: Anything with "chick" in it better be sashaying around topless.
Hmm. That's a somewhat impressive list of dislikes.
I don't know when we form these particular food prejudices, but I think I know where I got mine: inculcated from an early age by having to eat British boarding school food.
That being said, I do seem to like foods many others shun. Namely, dishes with a 1,000,000 Scoville Unit quotient, and stuff like broccoli. I know, "Why don't you like asparagus, but you like broccoli???"
I really don't know. But I'm getting better. I've recently been embracing blue cheeses, where I used to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I'll plough through a salmon steak, but let there even be one bone . . .
Well, at least I never tell my server I'm "allergic" to onions.